Page 46 of Falling for Mr. Billionaire
“Okay, pause,” Vanessa says. “He cooked for you, brought coffee, gave bed-breaking energy, and cleaned you up after? Honey, you better go ahead and lock that man down.”
“Stop.” I laugh. “Do not say that. It’s just vacation sex. Trapped-in-a-storm, mutual-attraction, perfectly-sculpted-body-on-top-of-me sex.”
“Sure. And I’m going to the gym tomorrow,” she says dryly.
I laugh, shaking my head.
“What?” she retorts. “I thought we were telling lies today.”
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling.
“But seriously,” she continues, her voice softening, “how are you feeling? Besides being thoroughly rearranged.”
I glance toward the window. The storm is still raging, but inside… it’s oddly still. I press a hand to my chest.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “It was supposed to be a fling. But the way he’s looking at me… the way he’s treating me…”
“Yeah?”
“I guess it’s hard to remember this is supposed to end in a few days.”
Vanessa goes quiet for a second. Then, gently but pointedly:
“Ivy… don’t get too close, okay? Enjoy the moment, ride the vacation high, but don’t go catching feelings too soon.”
“I know, Ness. I won’t,” I say quickly—too quickly.
But even I don’t believe it.
Because the truth is… I think I’m already halfway gone. Falling for the man I was never supposed to meet.
Falling for Mr. Billionaire.
“How are my babies?” I ask, steering the conversation in a lighter direction. She has a key to my apartment and has been checking in on my cats while I’m away.
“Luna tried to bite my finger off when I got too close with a wet towel. Diva behavior, as usual.”
I laugh. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”
“She’s fine now. They’re just staring at the wall like they’re plotting a takeover or something.”
“She’s probably mad you didn’t heat up her blanket.”
“Well, I’m not their personal butler,” she says, then adds, “Actually—scratch that. I think I’ve officially earned the title of Cat Aunt.”
“Welcome to the family.”
“Don’t push it.”
She’s not a cat person. At all. But she loves me enough to play cat sitter for a few days, and that means everything.
A buzz interrupts the call, and I pull the phone away. My editor’s name flashes across the screen.
“Shit. I’ve gotta take this, but thanks so much, Ness.”
“Okay, but call me later. And send pics. Of him. Shirtless. Wet, preferably.”
“Bye, Ness.”
